


Winter Song

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 12:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Ron and Hermione's relationship is  threatened by forces outside of themselves when one day an even greater  threat attempts to tear them apart for good. All that's left is light...





	1. One Man Drinking Games

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> _The following story includes lyrics from Mayday Parade, Jason Mraz, and Sarah Bareillas/Ingrid Michaelsson_
> 
> CatchSmoke did artwork for this story that can be found [here](http://catching-smoke.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=24#/d38q7e7) and [here](http://catching-smoke.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=24#/d38q7qf). 

**Part 1: One Man Drinking Games**

Ron double checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror at Grimmauld Place. He spent most nights with Hermione these days, but he still wanted to make sure he didn't look like a complete slob. He threw his rucksack over his back and grabbed his broom. He stuffed Harry's invisibility cloak in the front pouch of the bag, walked out of the front door, and breathed in the cool December air. 

Hermione lived on the other side of London with her parents. Right after the war, she went to Australia to get them. She came back riddled with guilt and insisted on staying in their home away from the Wizarding World. Hermione explained that her parents felt betrayed by her, and cited numerous instances where she chose her world over her family. She immediately began to crouch to their every demand. 

Ron had never known Hermione to be so meek, not by a long shot, but he assumed that with the stress of the past year, and the tense situation with her parents, she was taking a step back. He bit his tongue and let her be pulled to family functions, forced to have a curfew, and even pestered her to tears about getting what they called a "real education".

Ron was still recovering from the painful loss of Fred, and being in Hermione's arms was enough. They could sort out the details of their future later. It had only been six months, and both of them still woke up with nightmares. He didn't mind having to sneak into her house every night if it meant that they could be together when the darkness threatened to consume them.

He flew over the city, landing softly on the roof of the Granger's stately North London home. He threw the cloak over his head before stepping into the beam of the street light outside of Hermione's window. As carefully as he could, he drew his wand, unlocked her window, and carefully stepped in. 

_And you said it would be funny to keep me hanging in suspense_  
Then I'd run over to your house and I'd scale the chainlink fence  
That borders your back yard and then I'd climb through your window  
And I'd whisper that I love you as you fall out of your clothes

She immediately flew into his arms. He held her closely, enjoying her warm body after the cold flight over. He noticed her shoulders were shaking, and he pulled away to look in her eyes. Her tears were becoming a regular occurrence. 

"What is it?" Ron said, running a hand down her arm. 

"Oh Dad and I just got in a bad argument. He just keeps pushing this University thing over and over. He doesn't understand that I don't need Muggle degrees to work for the Ministry. But every time I tell him that I plan on going into Magical Law, he rolls his eyes and tells me I'm not living up to my potential," She breathed in deeply and sat down on her bed. "I just don't know what else to say."

"I have a few things you can say."

"Ron, I will not have you saying such rude things about my parents!" Hermione flared. Her red face was actually a relief to Ron. She spent too much time being walked on lately, and it was worrying him. However, he did not appreciate her anger being directed at him. 

"I didn't even say anything! But I'd be glad to march right over to their room right now and tell them what I think about the way they are treating you!" Ron shouted back. Hermione cast a silencing spell around them.

"How they are treating me? I was the one who wiped their memories… "

"To keep them safe! It was the right thing to do!" 

"I was the one who constantly turned my back on them for you and Harry, to think of all the holidays, all of the time… " She started wringing her hands.

"You were saving our fucking world!"

"Don't talk to me that way!" Hermione shouted, pressing her finger firmly against his chest.

"They are treating you like a doormat," Ron whispered, looking at her with what he hoped was equal ferocity. "That's not my Hermione, I don't care what you're trying to make up for."

Ron gripped her shoulders tightly, and she clenched her jaw and looked up at him. Her eyes were blazing and her breathing was heavy through her nose. Her hair had started to fly in all directions, as if powered by her mood. He didn't care how mad he was, he wanted her.

He kissed her with bruising force, immediately sliding his tongue along her lips. She bit his lip, and when he tried to pull away, she pulled him back in and kissed him just as hard. Their tongue danced in a maddening tangle as she tugged at his hair a little too hard. He turned her head to the side roughly and nipped at her neck.

[](http://community.livejournal.com/rhr_bigbang_art/2616.html)   


He felt her nails dig into his back even through his sweater, but her deep moan encouraged him to keep biting at her exposed skin. He leaned back, overcome with the need to see more of her flesh, and lifted her baggy sweatshirt over her head with alarming speed. Her bare chest heaved in front of him and he was overcome.

He tore off his shirt and pushed her onto her bed. He covered her body with his, peppering her chest with kisses. When he lightly closed his teeth over one of her nipples she cried out his name and ran her fingernails down his back. He arched away from her touch, but the jerk of his throbbing erection called out for more. 

He stood from the bed and pulled Hermione's pajama pants of off her, sinking his teeth into her exposed thigh. She yanked on his hair again, groaning his name and digging her bare heel in his back. He slid her panties to the side and immediately parted her lips with his fingers. Her hips bucked up to meet his face and her hands pulled his head down to meet her center. 

He laved his tongue over her fold and around her most sensitive parts. He had her body memorized, and knew just what to do to make her squirm. As she held onto him with a bruising grip, he brought her to the brink. He could see the way her legs started to shake and her back arched that she was close. He thrust his fingers into her and sucked on her mound. She came with a keening cry.

Before he could take down his jeans, Hermione had pulled him down to the bed. With remarkable strength she turned him on his back, clutching his hips tightly with her thighs. She leaned down and bit at his chest, twisting one of his nipples between her fingers. He thrust up into her, the feeling going straight to his aching cock. He reached up to kiss her, and her mouth met his hungrily. With a fiery glint in her eyes, she lifted her wand from the bed next to them and vanished his clothing.

She shifted her hips and he slid inside of her. He cried out her name as she groaned deeply. His long fingers wrapped tightly around her hips, and he leaned up to suck on her breast while they thrust wildly against each other. The angry slapping of flesh was rhythmic, and her moans were like music to him. After keeping a rapid bruising pace for what felt like forever and not long enough in the same shaky breath, Ron could feel his orgasm coming. 

He reached between them to bring her off with him. She brushed his hand away and he sat up. He pulled her close to him and thrust into her with all of the force of his love and frustrations. She bit down on his shoulder and he felt her clench around him, shaking out another orgasm. He let go, yelling her name between clenched teeth and coming inside of her with an intensity he hadn't felt since their first frenzied coupling right after Harry killed Voldemort.

They stayed pinned together, his legs coming up so that she could rest against him. He kept his arms tightly around her until they couldn't hold on any longer. They lay back against her white sheets and pillows, and fell asleep in a tangled mass of limbs.

  
_And we'd lay there in the darkness like this dream of you I had_  
Where we captured all the fireflies and knew what time we had  
Could be counted on our fingertips and that almost made you cry  
you let me hold you tightly as we said all our goodbyes

Ron awoke to find Hermione bustling around her room, a 'lumos' charm on her wand as she dug through her closet. Ron reached over and clicked his deluminator, filling her room with soft, blue light. She turned around and smiled at him, as she pulled out a large suitcase.

"Taking a trip?" Ron asked, sitting up. The clock next to her bed read midnight.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I would get a jump on packing. 

"Packing?"

"Yes… um… .my parents and I are going to the Riviera for a fortnight," she answered, avoiding his eyes.

"Hermione? When is this trip taking place?" Ron asked cautiously.

She avoided answering him, industriously putting clothing into a bag. He had a sinking feeling that this trip was occurring at the same time that her Magical Law Exams were taking place. She had been studying like mad for weeks, the date was ingrained in Ron's mind.

"Hermione… "

"This weekend, Ron."

"You're spending a fortnight in France when you are supposed to be taking those exams! You've been working so hard! Do you have a portkey arranged or something?" Ron said, rising up and shoving his jeans on.

"No, I… my parents didn't seem to think it was necessary. They said I need to spend a holiday with them." She said, looking down at her hands.

"Fucking Christ, Hermione!" Ron shouted. "How could you not set them straight? How could you go on this ruddy holiday when something you've been dreaming about for ages is on the line?" Ron was yelling again, his rage bubbling in his stomach.

"I can take the tests again next year," She said in a small voice. "My parents need me around."

"You'll still be around if you work for the Ministry. This is their game, Hermione. They are trying to make you live your life how they want it by playing with your guilt!" Ron was livid, and his heart was pounding.

"How dare you say such a thing!"

"No! It's the truth and you know it! You're the brightest witch anyone could possibly be and you have to see what they are doing!"

"I see it!" She screamed. "It's my fault! I abandoned them! I betrayed them! I have to pay for it," she yelled, her fists clenched at her side.

"You're paying for it with your dreams. You're sacrificing your future… you're sacrificing us." Ron said, his voice shaking.

"Ron?" Hermione said, stunned to a whisper. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't take it anymore. I can't take the sneaking around. Have you even told your parents about us? Do you ever want to go on a real date with me?" Ron said, his voice quieting with the emotions getting lodged in his throat. 

"Of course I do, Ron… I just need more time," Hermione said, imploring him to understand with her wide eyes.

"We've got time, but I don't want to be second place every single time you're given a choice. I'll deal with it. I love you too much to let you go over it. But now you're putting yourself second as well, and that's just not right. Not after what we've went through," Ron said. "I can't do this. I can't be with you like this anymore."

"Ron… Ron what are you saying?" Hermione said, tears welling up in her eyes. Ron had to swallow back a sob.

"I love you more than anything. I want to be with you forever. But sometimes I'm not sure if you want to be with me… and I just can't stand the questions… " Ron said. 

Before she could say another word, Ron stepped out of her window, mounted his broom, and flew away. He left behind his things, but he didn't care. He needed to get away from the gravity of what he just said.  
  
 _May I say I loved you more_  
May I say I loved you more  
  
And it must have been an hour that I clutched you in my arms  
And I must have said the right things because you instantly felt warm  
And you heard my heart stop beating and you wanted not to cry  
As your sympathetic whispers, they told a tale of bad goodbyes

Hermione could barely stand when it hit her. Ron had walked out on her, had told her he couldn't be with her anymore, and her whole world lost focus. She paced her room, angrily throwing her clothes from her suitcase and screaming through her tears. She stopped in front of her mirror, looked at her naked, disheveled appearance and wanted to break the glass.

"What the fuck are you doing, Granger? You're ruining everything!" She shouted, throwing her wand across the room. 

She reached in to her top drawer and pulled out the bottle of elf made wine Ron had gotten her. She drank until she was light on her feet. Then, she walked over to her bed, grabbed Ron's sweater, and buried her face in it as she lay down. 

She sobbed, violent and wracking cries that shook her body and made her chest ache. She breathed in his scent left on his clothing and whispered his name. She knew he was right. She knew that she was giving away so many good things with him by playing in to her parent's stupid game. She knew it, but she felt powerless to stop it. 

She drifted off to sleep thinking of what life would be like without Ron. She resolved in the morning to go to Grimmauld Place and beg his forgiveness. She had to tell her parents that she loved him and that she was going to work in the magical world. There was too much to lose. The harsh reality of it hit her in the stomach and burned her throat. Sleep found her uneasy, and took her away to nightmares of him leaving her in the forest, and her shouting for him… begging Ron to return.  
  
 _And you swore you saw me laughing and I swore I saw you smile_  
And this time we've spent together is meant to last us quite a while  
As I take this piece of you with me, I'll carry to my grave  
Knowing that for someone you're an angel sent to save

Hermione woke up to someone screaming her name and her parent's loud protests. Her father was shouting and her mother was wailing. There was a struggle downstairs.

"You cannot see her! She wants nothing to do with your lot!" Her father yelled.

"Hermione!" Harry's voice was screaming for her. 

Suddenly, there was a crack, and a dead silence. Two pairs of feet began pounding up her steps. Her door was flung open and Ginny and Harry were standing there, panic stricken and wild eyed. 

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled, running to him.

"Ginny! Ginny what's wrong?" Hermione said, alarmed by her petite form quivering on the edge of her bed.

"It's Ron," Harry said, crumpling on her floor. 

Hermione's head began to spin. She immediately thought of the worst. She imagined him dead, taken down in some horrible way without her by his side and feeling like she would never love him. She immediately jumped off of her bed and fell to the floor next to him.

"He was… Deatheaters… they," Ginny was stuttering behind her before she dissolved into sobs.

"Is he hurt?" 

"Hermione, he was taken. Right in front of The Leaky Cauldron. There was a quick fight, and before any more wands could be drawn, they got him with an unnamed curse and they all vanished. 

Hermione couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. She felt like she would die in that moment and she welcomed death if Ron was gone forever. She had no hope. 

"Do we know where they took him?" Hermione asked, shocked she could even form the words.

Ginny's shaking hands held out a note:

_We're going to make him pay. We're going to make you all pay._

The wine still present in Hermione's system swirled up her throat. She vomited on her carpet in great heaves before collapsing on Ginny's lap.

  
  
_(Keep breathing my angel, if you go down I go with you)_  
May I say I loved you more  
(Keep breathing, just keep breathing)  
(Keep breathing my angel, if you go down I go with you)

Flying so high had made Ron cold all the way to his bones. He welcomed the burning pain; it got his mind off of the searing ache of what he had just done. Still, he wished he had thought to grab his sweater. He landed in the neighborhood that housed the Leaky Cauldron, desperate for some warmth and the numbness of a good firewhiskey.   
  
He was shaking violently when he made his way to The Leaky Cauldron's entrance, steam was rising from his breath. Walking into the pub felt glorious, and he sighed at the itchy feeling in his ears as they warmed. He walked up to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey. 

The first drink had no effect on him. Hermione's heartbroken face crumpling still invaded every single inch of his mind, and he needed freedom from it if he was going to be able to go on at all. After five glasses, he swayed in his seat and felt his face burning, but she was still the only thing on his mind. Ron decided that his heart was a lost cause, and decided to hail the Knight Bus and head back to Grimmauld Place and sleep it off. 

He couldn't be without her; despite his frustration and her poor decisions… she was still his. Ron made his plans to go to her parent's first thing in the morning and try to sort things out. He just needed to sober up first. 

He stumbled out of the warm pub, and immediately lifted his wand. Before the Knight Bus could come, however, Ron was disarmed. He flattened his back against the building, readying himself for a fight. In an act of desperation, he lifted up a large brick and hurled it at the closest masked figure, knocking him out cold. A flash of red hit Ron square in his chest, and as his vision faded, he saw four hooded figures closing in on him.

  
_So let's drink to memories we shared_  
Down one for all the hopes and cares  
Here's two for being unaware that you're gone  
Because before too long you'll be a memory

  



	2. The Details in the Fabric

_Calm down_  
Deep breaths  
And get yourself dressed instead  
Of running around  
And pulling all your threads saying  
Breaking yourself up

Ginny circled the scrubbed wood table again, examining the sketches that the Knight Bus driver had provided them through his pensieve memory. Ron had only been missing for eight hours, but it was eight hours too many. George sat silently against the wall, underneath two burning sconces. Charlie took out a charcoal pencil and began to note the important things about the scene:

There was a bloody brick, and blood splatter from where the brick obviously hit someone…but there was no injured person left on scene. There was a scorchmark on the building, like the first curse had missed. And finally, though the fiends were hooded and masked, the arm of one of them flashed a prominent scar over the wrist before they all disapparated. 

"What we need is a way to find out whose blood that is," Ginny whispered. She hadn't slept yet, but she wasn't tired. She was driven, she was angry, and she was panicking somewhere deep inside of her. 

"Harry's taken it down to the Ministry, Ginny. I'm sure they can figure it out. We'll have a team of Aurors here in no time," Her mother's voice came in through the kitchen. Her eyes were red and her hands were shaking, but in true Molly Weasley fashion, she was setting cups of steaming tea in front of Ginny, Charlie, and Bill along with a plate of biscuits. Ginny couldn't even imagine eating or drinking in this moment. 

"The curse they used, the one that left that distinctive mark on the wall, it's something I've only ever seen in Egypt," Bill said, sipping his tea. "But anyone can learn an ancient curse, so that doesn't help. And they used some sort of untraceable charm on it, I can't figure out whose wand it was. Fuck!"

Bill suddenly threw his cup across the kitchen, shattering the delicate glass into many pieces. Charlie sighed and cast a quick 'reparo' before putting his hand on Bill's arm and rubbing in slow soothing circles. He put his other arm around Ginny's shoulders. 

Charlie was always the calm one, silently considering his next movie. Ginny marveled at his ability to keep his emotions in check, because she was about to fall to pieces on the kitchen floor. The prospect of losing another piece of her blood, her life, her soul was sending tremors of terror through her body. 

"Listen, Fleur is tracking those cloaks. They aren't Death Eater and they are quite unique. She's calling her mother's friend's, she'll get somewhere. Percy is with Harry and Dad. Soon they'll have the whole Ministry looking for him. We just need to keep it together," Charlie said gently, pulling Ginny to his chest. Ginny just shook her head.

"I won't stop. I won't be calm!" She shouted. Her rage and frustration flared so hard that the good china began to vibrate in the cabinet.

"Let's look at this drawing again…there's got to be something," Molly said, leaning over the table to peer at the sketch closely. 

"Witnesses!" Ginny suddenly shouted. Sure, Stan Shunpike had given them all the information that they could, but no one had yet canvassed possible pub patrons and those walking along the street. Ginny apparated away from the kitchen without so much as a goodbye.

(((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))

After making a stop by Eyelops to get copies made of her flyer depicting a picture of Ron and a description of the crime, Ginny made her way into The Leaky Cauldron. It was lunchtime, and so the place was packed. Hannah Abbot called out her name and waved wildly from behind the bar.

"Hannah?" Ginny said, too focused to smile back at her friend.

"Ginny! Stan Shunpike was just in here telling us about Ron. What can I do? I don't have to do the rest of my shift if you need me," She said, her warm, round face shining with concern.

Ginny filled her in, and soon Hannah's tall, round body was standing on top of the bar, whistling loudly to get everyone's attention.

"Listen up! This here is Ginny Weasley! Her brother, the war hero Ron Weasley was kidnapped yesterday in front of this very pub. If you have any information, come forward now! Everyone take a flier and spread the word!" She finished, and already patrons were shuffling forward to take a flier from Ginny's trembling hands.

No one had any information. Some of the regulars had seen Ron getting thoroughly pissed, and the bartender could recount his drinks, but no one saw him in front of the pub. Some of them said he was looking rather sick and upset, but Ginny only cared about who took him, and why.

She stood outside of the pub and began to call out anyone who turned to enter. She handed them all a flier and begged them with information. The threatened the shadier looking people with violence if they were holding out. Hannah came out and offered her food, drinks, and eventually begged her to come inside. She wouldn't. Despite it being December, Ginny didn't grow cold. Her face burned with anger and determination. She was unmoved even by the pouring rain. 

She tried to ignore the blood stain on the pavement, hoping it wasn't Ron's, but fearing that it was.

  
_If it's a broken part, replace it_  
But, if it's a broken arm then brace it  
If it's a broken heart then face it

"I don't fucking care what you have to do, but get the Aurors on this now! Hell, get the whole bloody Ministry on this. You owe me that much, even if you don't want to admit you owe him!" Harry slammed his fist on Kingsley's desk hard enough to surely leave a thick bruise. He hated holding his name and actions over the head of anyone, but in this circumstance he would use every ounce of everything he had. 

"Harry, I'll do everything.. We'll do everything we can. I just have to assembl and brief a team. I'll put my best ones on it…I promise," Kingsley said gently, but with a sharp glint in his eyes and belied how serious he was. Harry released a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

"It's Thorfin Rowle!" Percy Weasley shouted, slamming the door to Kingsley's office against the wall as he burst in. "They tested it…the unspeakables. It's Thorfin Rowle! They had his blood on file from another crime!"

Percy was breathing heavily, and there was a harsh look of triumph in his eyes. He didn't apologize for barging in, nor did he bow. He didn't even greet the minister. He just held the paper in his clenched fist and pumped it in the air angrily.

"We should get Charlie and Bill and go over there," Harry said, turning away from Kingsley. He had a new lead and he was going to take it.

"Yes. Immediately," Percy said, turning on his heels.

"Gentlemen! That is inadvisable! Give me a few hours and I'll have some Aurors go over and conduct a search," Kingsley's voice boomed, temporarily freezing them in their tracks on their way out of the office.

"With all due respect, Minister, we don't have a few hours. We can do this, and we will do this…with or without your approval," Percy said, turning away. Harry followed, too shocked to speak.

They apparated to The Burrow to find Molly, Charlie, and Bill pouring over the pensieve sketch. Percy filled them in, and everyone got ready to head directly to Rowle's house. He had been missing since the end of the war, but his family still lived in their home in the south of London. 

"Where's Ginny?" Harry said suddenly.

"She's at the Leaky asking questions. We sent a patronus, but she didn't answer," Molly said, wringing her hands in worry. 

Harry's heart immediately constricted. He looked around the small group in the kitchen, where Arthur had suddenly appeared. He needed to go with them; he needed to find Ron before he fell to pieces. But at the prospect that something may be wrong with Ginny, he was left with a choice.

"We'll go, Harry. We can cover this. You go get Ginny and bring her back here. Hermione still hasn't woken up, and Kingsley will be by with the Auror team," Arthur said with understanding. Harry apparated back to London. 

"I'm coming," George said quietly to his father. Harry spared a single moment of shock before he was off.

He found Ginny standing in the rain, soaking wet, and shouting at anyone who entered the pub. She was shaking violently, and her face was contorted in sadness and desperation. Harry's heart fell to the floor at seeing her with bags under her eyes, looking wet and sick under the torrential rain.

"Ginny," he said as softly as he could over the rain.

"Harry!" She shouted, immediately gripping his shirt. "Tell me they found him!"

"No…" he started. A limping, haggard man began to enter the pub.

"Hey! Hey! Do you have any information on my brother? Do you know anything?" She suddenly began to pester a disheveled old man. He took the flier and shook his head sadly.

"No! We need to get to him Harry! He could be hurt! He could be…" Ginny didn't finish her sentence, suddenly breaking into sobs. 

"They're following a lead, and the Aurors will be at the Burrow any minute now. Let's get back there to meet them. You've done all you can here," Harry said, tears welling up in his eyes at her broken expression. 

He wrapped his arms around her tightly and apparated them back home.

They returned to a quiet and empty house. Ginny's dripping wet form was creating a puddle on the brightly colored welcome mat as she looked around wildly.

"Ginny, we need to get you warmed up and get some food in you. You look dead on your feet," Harry said shakily.

"They aren't here, Harry! They aren't here!" She cried, wrapping her arms around herself.

"We can wait for them upstairs," Harry said. He swallowed down his own panic and worries and led her up the creaking steps. 

Harry wanted to fall apart, he wanted to cry Ron's name out of every window and fly over the entirety of Europe until he could see his shining hair and big smile again. However, Harry had to be strong. His girl and his Hermione needed him, and he couldn't fall apart…not yet. He went to the linen closet and pulled out a towel as Ginny stood there, crying and shivering. He entered her room and pulled out some jeans and a warm sweater, blushing slightly as he fished out a pair of panties from her top drawer. 

Ginny had followed him into her room, but she just stood there with a panicked, crazy look on her face. Her eyes darted in every direction, confusion marring her features. Harry walked up to her slowly.

"Lift up your arms, love," he whispered. She complied, her shoulders shaking as she did so. He peeled the wet shirt off of her pale skin and pulled it over her head. He stumbled a bit as he undid the clasp of her jeans. It was nothing he hadn't seen, but she was just standing there, and she looked so vulnerable that Harry thought she would break. 

Harry didn't dare draw his wand to remove her clothing or to dry her; both of them were too unstable in the moment. When he had removed her bottoms, he brought up the large, fluffy towel and began to carefully dry the droplets of water from her body. He wrapped it around her, taking another towel to carefully run over her long, red hair. When he had finished, he pulled her close to her chest and breathed in deeply.

  
"I can't lose him, Harry. I can't lose another brother. I won't survive," Ginny sobbed softly into his shirt.

"We'll find him. We have to. I won't rest until we do," Harry whispered, stroking her drying hair. "Do you think you can eat something?"

Ginny nodded and summoned the plate of biscuits from the table downstairs. Harry cast a spell to bring the tea to them. They sat beside each other on her bed and ate in silence. Suddenly there was a scream coming from Ron's bedroom, where they had laid Hermione on his bed.

"Ron!" came Hermione's panicked shriek. Harry rushed up the stairs as Ginny began to pull on her clothing.

Hermione was sitting up in Ron's bed, her eyes wide and tears streaking down her face. She continued to scream his name over and over again as Harry made it up to the attic bedroom. When she saw him, she jumped up.

"Tell me it was an awful nightmare! Tell me he's here!" She cried. Harry could only shake his head.

She pushed him against the wall roughly, and Harry hit his head on the wood. "Why didn't you wake me up? What are we doing just sitting here?"

"We're waiting for the Aurors. The rest of the Weasleys are at the Rowles'" Harry said as clearly as he could. "You passed out, Hermione. We thought you needed a bit of recovery."

"No! What I need is Ron!" Hermione said, a little more quietly but with just as much pain.

"We'll find him," Harry whispered. Looking at Hermione, so out of control and so broken made Harry finally give in. He began to cry along with Hermione, and he wrapped his arms around her to keep from shaking. He felt Ginny come up behind him and lean her head against his back. They stood there holding each other for several minutes.

Hermione was about to ask more questions when there was an urgent pounding on the door. Harry answered it to see Kingsley and 20 tough looking men and women standing in formation on the Burrow's front lawn. The search just got more powerful, and Harry was tempted to hope for just a moment.

  
_Hang on_  
Help is on the way  
Stay strong  
I'm doing everything

The bright light that filtered through the slats of wood holding the shack together clued Ron in that it was sometime in the afternoon. He had woken up a while ago with a pounding head, a broken arm, and a chill so deep inside him that he thought he would never stop trembling. Obviously he hadn't been taken anywhere south, nor had he been taken to any place meant to keep his needs met. His legs were chained immovably to the floor, and his arms were cuffed in front of him. The prospects of surviving already seemed dim.

The light began to fade away quickly, and Ron could smell the thick scent that the air got just before it rained. Sure enough, a torrential rain began to pound on the sagging wooden roof of his shack. A steady stream of water flowed in the corner to his right, coming through a crack and trickling down into the worn floorboards. The water didn't look very appetizing, and he wasn't particularly thirsty, but weighing his options and the possible motives of his captors, Ron didn't think he was going to be getting any water from them. He drank as much of the wood rain water as he could, hoping that they wouldn't notice if they ever came for him.

A scream made Ron jump, and he scooted from the corner and back to his original position. He was planning on feigning sleep until he heard Hermione's familiar voice.

"Ron!" he heard the scream, though it sounded muffled. 

Ron jumped up, only to be pulled down to the floor by the chains attached to his cuffs. His arm crackled painfully and he cried out. He could no longer hear Hermione's voice, only the heavy footfalls marching through wet grass. 

"What have you done with her? Let her go!" Ron screamed before the unknown captor even opened the door to his locked shack.

A tall, heavy man slammed open the door. He had a menacing smile on his face and Ron's deluminator in his hand. He ran his thumb over the tip, and Ron shuddered with revulsion. He knew without a doubt he was staring at the wanted Deatheater, Antonin Dolohov. 

"This your bird, then?" Dolohov asked, licking his lips. "Maybe I'll pay her a visit before we search after the Mudblood and Potter."

Ron bit his tongue. He wasn't about to add more fuel to this man's burning need for revenge on him and his friends. Ron was nearly positive this all was an act of revenge. The Deatheaters were not organized enough, and not large enough in number to be trying another takeover, and most were just trying to avoid Azkaban. The ones still missing were the worst off, though, forced to live like animals to avoid capture. It wasn't surprising a few of them had got it in their heads to take down the "war heroes" with them. Ron's suspicions were proven true when Dolohov spoke again.

"We're going to make you all pay. You ruined what could have been a glorious age of wizarding power!" Dolohov said, hurling a curse that threw Ron against a wall. He was sure he broke a few ribs. It was difficult to breathe when he finally pulled himself off the ground. It took so much strength to stare defiantly at the large man in front of him. 

"What we did, it's not going to end if you kill me," Ron spat, fear coursing through him as blood flew out of his mouth. 

Dolohov just laughed, flicked Ron's deluminator one more time, and sauntered out of the shack. Ron cradled his injured arm close to him and tried desperately warm up. Every shudder of his body made his ribs scream in pain, and the shallow breaths he was taking was making him lightheaded.

He hoped against hope that Harry and Hermione were okay. Judging by the trembling in his body, Ron didn't think he was going to make it unless he could get to his deluminator somehow. He didn't want to remember the last time he saw Hermione, or he'd welcome death too quickly. So Ron leaned back and began to try to figure out a way to get his deluminator out of the mad man's hands.   
  
_Are the details in the fabric_  
Are the things that make you panic  
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

(Three days later)

Ginny was ready to pull every last strand of her hair out. The Rowles turned up nothing, the witnesses found nothing, and they were no closer to finding Ron than they were the moment he went missing. The best Aurors in England were searching for Ron, and there wasn't a bit of evidence. 

She continued to do everything she could, going on searches, scanning and rescanning maps of England with her family, and even helping Hermione research any lead on the unique magic that Dumbledore had used to create the deluminator. But in those few moments when she found herself trying to sleep, Ginny's fear took over, and she pictured her brother broken, bloody, in pain, or even dead. She couldn't handle those thoughts, so she just kept on working.

By the looks on everyone's face, no one was faring better in the Weasley household. George was more present than he had been in months, but he stilled remained starkly silent. Bill was riddled with guilt, never wanted to give up the search, but being torn between his worry for his brother and his pregnant wife. Charlie's calm was waning, and Ginny often saw him throwing something or punching a wall. Percy and Arthur got in arguments about the procedures and measures the Aurors were taking so often that Ginny feared Percy would leave again. Her mother wept every night, and ran her fingers gently over all of the sketches and maps, as if her touch could bring Ron to her. Harry had such a hungry, desperate look on his face, and he was so lost without Ron, that Ginny came to realize that their friendship ran even deeper than she would ever understand.

Then there was Hermione. As expected, she poured her heart and soul into research, choosing to focus on ancient magic, and deciphering some of Dumbledore's notes. She looked thin and drawn, and she refused to leave the desk she had set up in the Burrow's living room. Every once in a while she would cry silently, slamming books against the desk, only to take a deep breath and move her mouth into a hard, determined line. She still cried out his name every night. 

The pain, the struggle, and the worry was making Ginny feel sick to her stomach. She felt empty all of the time. She felt useless for not being able to figure something out…anything. It seemed as though all of her best efforts were falling short, and she was getting nowhere. On the end of the third day, she walked up to the loo to take a shower, and when she saw her gaunt reflection in the mirror, she cried out and began slamming her fists against the glass. 

Ginny didn't realize that her hands were bleeding until Harry and Charlie pulled her arms behind her back to get her to stop. She just couldn't take it anymore. She was failing her brother. She was failing her family by not being able to do more. It was like the last year was repeating itself, and she just had to sit on the sidelines and endure. 

"Ginny, you have to stop this. You need some rest," Harry said urgently, holding Ginny's hands out in front of her so that Charlie could spell away the glass and heal her. "You're not doing R..Ron any favors by hurting yourself."

"I'm not doing him any favors anyway. I'm not doing anything!" Ginny shouted, her body warming up. "We've been puttering about this house for three days, with no lead and no fucking hope! I need to go somewhere! I need to do something!"

"I know, love. I know. I feel the same way. But taking yourself out of commission isn't going to make anything any better. And Gin…I…I need you right now," Harry's last words were a shaky whisper.

When she looked up into his eyes, she saw his lip trembling and his eyes watering. He gripped her wrists tightly and mouthed the words 'please' before letting his head fall to her shoulder. She heard the door close and she stood there frozen for a moment before wrapping her arms around Harry and pulling him against her. She could feel his strong, solid body against hers and reveled in how real and present he was. He needed her, it dripped from his voice, and in that, she managed to swallow some of her hopelessness and vowed to try to be as solid for him as he was for her. 

"Come on, Harry. Let's get cleaned up, and then we'll do some reading with Hermione. She needs us too," Ginny said. Harry lifted his watery eyes to hers and nodded carefully.

They found Hermione in the same place she had been for the past three days, in the same state, and pouring over the same pile of books. Harry summoned three cups of tea and two more chairs, and he and Ginny settled themselves next to her. She finally lifted her head, and her bloodshot brown eyes met Ginny's. Instead of looking worn, or teary, Hermione's eyes were sharp and alive, as though she was on the edge of something brilliant that was just waiting to escape. 

"I think I've figured something out," Hermione said with a cautious hope in her voice. Harry and Ginny just sat there, eager for her to go on. "I've been thinking about when he came back, and he said he heard me call out his name."

"Yeah, he said there was this light," Harry added.

"A light! Exactly! We thought it was Dumbledore's deluminator that caused that, but I'm not so sure now. That deluminator is just a silver tube that houses light. It doesn't seem like a big enough vessel to hold something like a tracing spell. With that in mind, I began to look up spells that would create that kind of connection that Ron used to get back to us," Hermione said, shoving some books aside wildly. "Of course I found nothing in traditional spellbooks, but I'm not surprised."

"Yeah, something that takes you from one place to another with the appearance of a blue light doesn't strike me as traditional," Ginny said, leaning in closer, her eyes perking up in interest.

"I looked up some tomes on ancient magic by way of correspondence with Madame Pince. I had the notion that this connection could be similar to the deep-seeded magic that kept Harry safe all those years," Hermione's lip shook a little.

"Sacrifice?" Harry said, and she could tell by the determined look on Harry's face that he was already considering the ways he could give his life up for Ron's.

"Love," Ginny whispered, putting a hand on Hermione's arm to calm her. 

"Yes. I've been screaming, whispering, and calling his name for three days, but he likely doesn't have the deluminator wherever he is at. But after reading this passage, I think it's more about…well about our souls," Hermione finished, sliding the book over to Harry. Ginny got up and looked over his shoulder:

_When affinity stops before home,_

And a lost soul is doomed to roam,

__

Use your attachment to set things right

__

It is within your heart to bring love's light.

__

When you may become the light yourself

__

_Your kinship and connection will find your help._

"I can't think this is just a coincidence. Ron was far from home, as were we. We were all lost and roaming. And when I said his name, the light showed up, and it took him to us when he let the light go inside of himself," Hermione explained, though none was needed. Harry and Ginny both knew what this meant and for the first time in three days, they had a little more hope.

"But how can we create the light? How can we channel it? The light came from the deluminator. We would need to make another one and no one can even begin to replicate Dumbledore's magic!" Harry leapt from his chair, clenching his fists and pacing in frustration.

"I don't know that yet, Harry! I don't know! I'm not reading fast enough. I'm missing something!" Hermione said, jumping up and meeting his frustrated gaze with her own. "And who knows if we even have that connection anymore? He wanted to end it! He was angry with me about the way I was letting my parents manipulate me and he had walked out! I'm never going to be able to get him back…I'm not enough," Hermione's last words came out in a choked sob, and she stood there shocked at her own outburst.

Harry stood staring at her, his mouth opening and closing. Ginny got up and walked around the desk to comfort her friend and her lover. She needed to wrap her arms around them both, or she felt she would fall apart too. Ginny's shaking step faltered, and she knocked over a large stack of books. One thin, worn-looking diary landed face up on the haphazard pile. 'Albus Dumbledore' was inscribed in silver on the cover.

"Hermione? Harry? What is this?" Ginny said, lifting up the diary and holding it for them to see. A slip of paper fell out of it and Hermione picked it up, silently reading it for a moment before her face lit up slightly.

"Madame Pince sent me everything that was in Dumbledore's private library as well. She thought it would help. That woman is an angel!" Hermione said, running back to her seat to excitedly rifle through the pages.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look that clearly said "angel isn't the term" before sitting next to each other in the living room and waiting patiently for Hermione to draw some conclusions, for someone to come bursting through and saying they found Ron, or really for anything at all to happen that would bring them closer to him. As Ginny leaned her head against Harry's warm chest and listened to his heart slow, she fell into a deeper sleep than she had in days.

  
_Are the things that make you blow_  
Hell, no reason, go on and scream  
If you're shocked it's just the fault  
Of faulty manufacturing.

Hermione was holding the diary like the most valuable and delicate thing she had ever seen when Mrs. Weasley's raised voice came from the kitchen.

"Excuse me, but we are having a family emergency, and I would appreciate it if you controlled your temper before approaching our Hermione."

"Your Hermione? I demand to see my daughter right now! She disappeared without so much as a note, and I've come to take her back home," Mrs. Granger's voice was high and strident. Harry followed Hermione quickly into the kitchen.

"Mother? How did you find me?" Hermione said quietly.

"You do keep an address book, even if the postal service doesn't come out this way."

"Oh, right. Well, I have a lot of work to do," Hermione said, hunching her shoulders, closing her eyes and attempting to walk away.

"Oh no you don't! I won't have you traipsing around doing frivolous little magical things when your future is at stake! We were supposed to have a meeting with the Dean at Cambridge today," Hermione's mom spoke ferociously, reaching out to grip Hermione's shoulder.

Harry didn't really understand why Hermione wasn't refusing to go. She was always so strong and determined, and to see her positively quail under her mother's remonstrations was frustrating Harry. He now fully understood why Ron would come home in the mornings sour and angry. Harry met Hermione's eyes with what he hoped was a questioning glare. 

"No! My Ron is missing! He was taken, and I would rather die than not do everything in my power- and I promise, mother, that I am very powerful- to find him," Hermione seemed to light on fire more with every word, as if something was waking up inside of her. 

"You're…Ron…but I thought…missing?" Mrs. Granger stuttered. 

"I've loved him for years, and we've been together since the end of the war. He's been sneaking in my window nearly every night and I'm bloody well tired of it! When I find him again, we're living together, and I won't hide him from you anymore. You're being irrational and all it's doing is hurting him and me," Hermione finished, turning on her heel and stomping out of the kitchen. Harry followed after Mrs. Granger, making sure that Hermione didn't do something truly angry…like conjuring some canaries.

"He's in danger?" Mrs. Granger asked quietly.

"Yes, mum, he is. He's been missing for three days and we've barely made any progress," Hermione said, beginning to tear up. 

Her mother walked up to her and wrapped her arms around Hermione, stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry. I'll do whatever I can. When you find him, when you get through this, he can come for dinner. I've been…Hermione I'm so sorry!"

"I need to get back to my research. I may have stumbled upon the key to using some very ancient magic to get to him," Hermione said, pulling away. Her mother nodded. Harry turned around when Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat.

"I think the kids could use some coffee, and I'm terrible at making it with magic. Arthur has a Muggle coffee maker, if you'd like to show me how to use it," Molly said, reaching out her hand and gesturing Mrs. Granger back into the kitchen. Harry barely had time to register how quickly the scene had turned when he looked over and saw Hermione and Ginny huddled over Dumbledore's diary.

  
_Everything will be fine_  
Everything in no time at all  
Hearts will hold

The only way Ron could tell it had been three days was by the rising and falling of the sun through the cracks of his windowless, ramshackle prison. He was so cold that he couldn't feel his hands and feet, and his lips were stinging and broken open. He huddled in on himself from the wind blowing through the cracks, but he never got warm enough. He knew he would have been dead by now if it had not been for his forceful determination to use wandless magic. It wasn't strong, but he was putting everything he had into that weak warming charm, and everything he had wasn't nearly enough.

Every day, as the sun was fading away, a thin slice of bread and a small tin cup of water would appear at his feet. It wasn't enough to sustain him, but Ron ate greedily anyway, never quite easing the ache in his stomach. He would place the cup under his happy little stream, ready to kick it away if someone were to come.

But no one came. Not one of his captors has shown their face. Ron was sure by the second day that they meant to kill him slowly, to make him suffer. He was suffering. Inside his own mind, with only his thoughts to focus on, Ron was beginning to lose his tenuous hold on reality. If someone were to come in, even to gloat at him, at least he could shout, rage and fight back. Being alone like this only made Ron realize that he was going to die alone and with so much left unfinished.

He could barely move, so as night fell on the third day, Ron just leaned his head against the wall that wasn't bearing the wind and attempted to hold still enough not to upset his painfully swollen broken arm and ribs. The pain had started off as a distraction, but it was only serving as a reminder of his pending death in the darkness. 

He thought of his last words to Hermione and the bile rose in his throat. He was going to die without her love and it mocked him. Flashes of her moving on with her life, happy and fulfilled made Ron want to give up in that moment, and as his eyes closed, he hoped they wouldn't open again. He was done. He couldn't take anymore. He whispered her name as he fell asleep.


	3. Winter Song

_"Binding Attachment_

_Ancient attachment magic, coming about as a result of the Goblin Rebellion, can be housed. I am hypothesizing that you can use a pure metal and the properties of light to bring the magic to a more usable and less erratic state._

_The magic is powerful and unpredictable, but uncovered historical accounts have drawn me to the conclusion that once again, love is more powerful than we had initially thought._

_…_

_Have successfully housed the attachment magic. However, I cannot find someone I am sufficiently bonded to which will allow me to test this theory out. The deluminator is a moderate success._

_What I need is to find two people, or even a family that is so intricately and intensely linked that they may unite their souls over vast quantities of space._

_…_

_Was able to go to my brother in a time of great distress recently. My love for him, however marred by years of animosity, was able to carry me off of the Hogwarts grounds and escape a rather nasty cursed object that was threatening to deaden not only my hand by my whole body._

_I worry, however, that it was my power that helped to heighten my magic. I wish my attachments were stronger, so it took less out of me physically. I was also not able to go more than a few miles._

_…_

_Aberforth and I have concluded that there is a maximum distance of 100 miles for travel after conducting experiments with a local wizarding couple in Hogsmeade. However, the magic is a success, and can be channeled effectively through the deluminator._

_I can now say with definitive certainty that attachment magic can be used to take someone in grave danger to someone who can help them, as long as their bond is unbreakable. Lost souls, injured parties, and those in desperate need could benefit immensely from this._

_The upcoming fight will prove this magic necessary, but I worry my time is short._

_…_

_Ronald Weasley?"_

Hermione clutched the diary close to her chest and began to weep. Her former headmaster had given them a gift steeped in so much understanding and love that she couldn't even fathom how she'd ever thank him should she have had the opportunity. Hermione was filled with a burgeoning hope. All she had to do was find the area Ron was in, and they could get to him. Dumbledore had shown her it was possible. Looking over at the table where the Weasleys were huddled together, holding each other and discussing their next move, she knew there was enough love in that room to move them to Ron if they could just channel it all. 

An immense crash outside startled Hermione from her thoughts and she followed the Weasleys out the front door. Harry was there brandishing his wand and standing over a dead body. Hermione shrieked, worried for a split second it was Ron before she caught sight of the dark hair.

"That's Rowle!" Bill shouted, sprinting forward and casting a bevy of spells over the dead body. His chest was exposed, and across his pale, lifeless form, words were carved.

" _We are killing him slowly…_ "

Ginny let out a cry and Percy wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling. Molly choked out Ron's name and put her arm around Harry, whose body was trembling. Hermione felt alone until she felt a warm embrace from behind. Her mother was standing there, smelling of coffee whispering soothing words in her ears. Suddenly, Charlie let out a shriek of triumph. 

"Off your rocker?" George muttered, coming up to Charlie and looking at him quizzically.

"No, he's filthy! There are twigs and dirt in his hair, and they are not from here! Look at this pine needle!" Charlie said, holding it up.

"Yep, crazy as a crone," George said, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't you see? We can figure out where these plants and soil come from! We can get closer to Ron!"

It slowly dawned on everyone that Charlie was on to something, and they began to mutter amongst themselves. Hermione had her own private joy to focus on, pulling away from her mother and rushing back into the house. It was time to tell the Weasleys about the ancient magic. With all of them, they may be able to get to Ron yet.

She wondered if he was still alive, but she had to have faith. If she didn't cling to hope, she might fade away into nothing.

_This is my winter song to you._  
The storm is coming soon,  
it rolls in from the sea

Arthur procured them a secure portkey, she said goodbye to her mother, and they were in Cardiff before the sun had set on the third day. The soil samples and sea salt on Rowle's skin gave them enough information to tell them he was somewhere in Southwestern England. Hermione breathed a very small sigh of relief at the thought that she may have been within range to work the attachment spell. With that thought, she gathered up everyone into the pub below their rooms.

Hermione looked around the room at Ron's family and his best friend. They all were in varying states of disarray, from Percy's slightly wrinkled shirt and out of place curled hair, to Ginny's uncombed mess of hair and dark rings around her eyes. They looked at Hermione with a kind of desperate hope that she knew mirrored her own expression. She pulled the diary closer to her chest.

"Did Ron ever tell you about the special thing the deluminator did for us while we were in hiding?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice strong and her head clear. Eventually everyone nodded in the affirmative, with looks of speculation and question on their faces. 

"He said that there was a blue light after he heard your name, and that when he let it go inside of him, it took him away from my house and to where you were," Bill said, a calculating glint in his eye. "Wait, Hermione… it wasn't… is there a way to make that magic again?"

There was a murmur among the assembled group and Hermione saw Ginny grip Harry's had tightly and falter in her step a little as her eyes finally lit up for the first time in days. "Yes. Yes I think I can. Well, that is, I think we can."

"We?" Molly whispered weakly.

"According to Dumbledore's notes on the subject-"

"You have notes from Dumbledore?" Percy said, perking up. Hermione nodded and handed him the diary. She knew Percy would come to the same understanding she had if given time, but he had spent so long searching for Rowle and then searching out where Rowle had been that he wasn't around enough to sit and study as she had. If something should go wrong, if something should happen, Percy may be able to take over.

"The magic in that deluminator, the spell that created that blue light was borne from an ancient sort of love magic that Dumbledore referred to as 'attachment magic'. It was used during times of war to unite separated loved ones under duress and strife. Dumbledore found a way to harness that magic and keep it near, so that when I spoke Ron's… when I spoke Ron's name, he was able to form that attachment easily and go right to me," Hermione said, hoping that she was making sense of the rather complicated situation.

"So you think that if he says one of our names, we can go to him?" Charlie spoke up, his large hand wrapped around his thick arm tightly as he leaned against the bar.

"But how can we just create magic without a spell, and without a spell in our minds?" Arthur stepped forward, a drink shaking in his hand.

"It was done long ago, and Dumbledore managed to do it himself under great stress."

"This all sounds like a great idea, Hermione, but how can we get him to say our names?" Percy said, pressing his finger into the diary to mark his place as he lifted his head slowly.

"It will take a lot of focus and hope, but if Ron is… God… if Ron is still alive, he may yet utter one of our names. I also think that 'mum' would work as well," She could feel her lips tremble as she looked at Molly.

"Then we'll give it a shot. I'm sure we can bring about this light if we all focus on him, if we're all ready when he decides to speak again," Molly exclaimed, taking Arthur's hand in her right and George's hand in her left. The rest of the group took seats around a dark, wooden table in the empty pub and closed their eyes.

"It will help if we can all think about him, about something that particularly attaches him to us. I think that if we want to talk, that's okay too. As long as we can hear his call should it come."

Hermione sat in the silence of the room remembering that night right after Voldemort was killed. He came to her wordlessly, moving aside the covers of the bed she had taken in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory and getting into bed with her. He smelled of dust, dirt, and smoke, but he also smelled like Ron. She pulled him against her and began to sob into his chest in relief. It was over, they were alive, and they had each other. 

He held her all night, as they explored each other's bodies and promised forever, she felt safer than she had in years. She felt like she could conquer anything. Her future was bright, despite all of them losing so much.

Her reverie was broken when Molly spoke up. "Ronnie was the first one to speak. I kept all of your accomplishments to myself when you were growing up so that you wouldn't be too competitive, but I remember them all. He was only six months old when he said his first word. I walked over to his cot one day, to check on him. He was never a fussy baby and he rarely cried, so I often walked over to him to make sure everything was okay. There he was, sitting in his cot, and he looked up at me," Molly paused to wipe her eyes. "He looked up at me, smiled his wide, crooked smile, and said 'Mum!' before lifting his arms up for me."

Hermione tried to picture what Ron might have looked like as a baby, remember that if… no, when she found him she would certainly ask to see some. She pictured his sweet, round face and big eyes with a little tuft of ginger hair on the top of his head. She closed her eyes again and thought of the way his eyes always bored into hers. 

"Ronald held my hand, at Fred's funeral." Percy started, clearing his throat. "I didn't think any of you would ever forgive me, and I didn't feel like I deserved to be there. When I walked up to the casket, I couldn't move. It was just too much. Then Ron… well Ron walked up and he slipped his hand in mine. He never said anything, but it was all I needed. I just wanted to know that I was forgiven by at least someone."

After an hour, the pub owner came down to open for dinner, and they still hadn't managed to clear Ron and conjure the light. Hermione knew they would try again, and she went upstairs to wait until last call.

  
_My voice; a beacon in the night._  
My words will be your light,  
to carry you to me.

It was a welcome respite when everything from his elbows down went completely numb. Ron didn't know if he would have been able to stand the throbbing in his arm much longer. He panicked when he couldn't feel hi s legs at all anymore, seeing his chapped and purple skin peaking out above his trainers. Ron's lips were cracked, parched, and bloody. He was out of options and done with hope.

"Please! I just want to die!" Ron called out to his unseen captors. He knew they wouldn't answer. Ron was convinced he was the last man on earth, doomed to die a frozen death chained to a wall. He was alone, and he was desperate.

Closing his eyes and hoping for sleep to turn into a quieter death than the current mangled torture in his mind, Ron tried to think of happier memories. He remembered how Ginny used to giggle when he read her Mad Muggle comics. He thought back to the first time Harry visited his house, and how happy and excited he looked even in Ron's simple surroundings. And he tried hard to relive his first kiss with Hermione, but he was afraid to think of her. In the back of his mind, he just couldn't say goodbye. 

When the sun was high in the sky on the fourth day, and Ron had eaten his oddly-appearing piece of bread, he did say his goodbyes. He imagined the way she felt beneath his hands, how she got gooseflesh when he blew on her navel. He breathed in, smelling the subtle scent of her hair that he could never place, but that he was sure might have been the most delicious smell in the world. He licked his cracked lips and pretended he was running his tongue around her smooth, curved mouth. 

He moaned her name, trying to mimic the sounds he would make if they were in bed together in this moment, but his voice only came out like a sickly groan. The sound of his own voice strangled in his throat brought him back to reality. Ron wanted to curl up in a ball and sob, but he couldn't move most of his body. He just sat there and cried Hermione's name over and over.

A warmth radiated from inside of him so profound, he thought for sure he was dying and the pain was finally going to vanish. He looked up at the rotting ceiling of his final resting place and waited for the light to take him over. Light did begin to shine, but it was a dim, blue light coming from his chest.

He didn't think death would feel so much like life, but he welcomed whatever was coming for him.

_They say that things just cannot grow_  
beneath the winter snow,  
or so I have been told.

_They say were buried far,_  
just like a distant star  
I simply cannot hold.

The Aurors searched all night, and came back to the pub in Cardiff looking chilled, frustrated and exhausted. Kingsley was reluctant to stop the search, but his team was getting so worn that they wouldn't last another moment. He promised the Weasleys he would start again midday, and he begged Molly's forgiveness. Kingsley was beginning to fall apart, and that unnerved everyone immensely.

With the Aurors asleep, no new insights as to where Ron could be, and a raging winter storm belting thick drops of rain outside, Hermione suggested that they try to summon the bonding light again. No one seemed to think it would work, but everyone began to move closer together anyway. Arthur Weasley took Hermione's hand, and her heart leapt in her throat. He had the same large, warm hands Ron had. She wanted to pull away, but cling desperately to him in the same moment.

"Ron loves to take things apart with me," Arthur smiled. "Sure, you all give me a good ribbing over my obsession with Muggle things, but Ron always seemed interested whenever I showed him the pieces of a radio or the inside of a tennis ball. His eyes always brighten whenever he figures something out… and he bites his lip to concentrate. You all have your quirks, but to see him biting his lip and studying all of my worthless junk will be something I can never forget."

"You all are talking about him like he's dead!" George shouted, speaking more loudly than he had in months. Hermione held her breath, worried he would break her delicate composure. "Isn't the point of Hermione's theory to think of him so that we can go to him? We're thinking him into a grave! You might as well get another headstone now, Mum, because you've already all buried him!"

Hermione didn't know what compelled her, but she ran after him and ignored the angry and shocked sounds of the rest of the people in the room. She found George standing on a dock jutting into the raging inlet with his hand clenching a wooden post so tightly she thought it would break. Despite the sound of the waves, George must have heard her. 

"I can't lose anyone else. I can't. I'm not saying that out of simple grief… grief is never simple. I'm saying this because I am not capable of handling anymore loss. I know it's selfish, and I'm sorry to have said that, Hermione, but he can't be gone. It's not over. If it was over, I'd be over too. I'm still here- my heart is still beating. I'm still fucking here!"

He shouted the last sentence before turning and fully facing Hermione. Ron never resembled the twins much, but the fire that burned inside of George in that moment was so achingly familiar she couldn't doubt for a moment that he meant every word. Ron would say the same thing. She reached out for George, stopping short and worrying she overstepped her bounds, only to feel his fingers curl around her arm.

  
"Ron," George cried. Hermione echoed his cry before pressing her body against his side. She didn't even realize they were both repeating his name until a small blue light began to hover directly in front of her. She gasped, and reached toward the floating blue orb. A shadow was cast against the light of the distant lighthouse, and she looked to see Molly, Arthur, Charlie, Bill, Percy, Harry and Ginny standing there with wide eyes. They all immediately took on a serious and concentrating look. 

After only a few moments, the light got bigger, and Hermione reached out for it.

"Take Ron's watch. Send a patronus with your coordinates immediately," Arthur said, slipping something round and cold in her hand.

"Be careful, Hermione. Please… " 

Harry's plea faded softly away as Hermione took the blue light into her chest.

  
_This is my winter song._  
December never felt so wrong,  
cause you're not where you belong;  
inside my arms.

The heat that was rippling out from his chest through the rest of his body felt so incredible that Ron knew he had died. When Hermione appeared in front of him, bathed in blue light and looking like the most beautiful thing to ever occupy the planet, he smiled serenely at her. Ron didn't want to leave her, didn't want to leave all of the people he loved, but he couldn't help but crave the relief that death was sure to bring.

"You're here. Even after everything I said, I still get to meet death with you at my side. The Fates must not hate me too much," He said, willing his hands to rise so he could reach out to her. He just wanted to touch her one last time, but his arms just wouldn't lift up. He wanted to growl in frustration at the cruelty of seeing her and not feeling her.

Ron was certain something wasn't right, or he would have been able to move. He accepted it as an inevitability of death that he would lose all of the functions of his body, and was shocked when he looked down and saw that his chest was still rising and falling. That wonderful blue light was moving in and out of him and making him feel more full of life than he had in days. He knew his soul would leave his body at any moment.

Hermione was acting particularly odd for the Angel of Death. She screamed and let out a choked sob that he could hear over the buzzing in his ears. Even with his blurred and fading vision, he could see her crying and shaking, waving her wand in many different directions. She conjured a silver wisp from the end of her wand, spoke to it, and sent it away.

"Are you telling him I'm coming then, love?" Ron said, hoping his voice had gained more clarity in death.

"Who… Ron… what?" Hermione said, conjuring up what he was sure was a warming charm as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

"Fred, Hermione. I don't want to face this alone!" Ron cried, wondering why his angel looked so panicked and forlorn. The warmth in his body wasn't a distraction any longer, and fear of the unknown was creeping through him. He needed to know Fred would be there.

She waved her wand again, her hand shaking violently as she did so. With the 'clank' of his metal chains, a blinding pain coursed through is broken arm and he screamed. 

"What the fuck? I thought death was supposed to be easier than this!" Ron shouted at Hermione's shocked and pained expression.

"Your arm!" She cried back. "Death? Ron, I'm here to get you out of this. The Aurors and your family are on their way. You just have to hold on a little longer!"

Ron could only stare back at her, utterly confused. He knew that the pleasant warmth and the apparition of his love meant he was finally going to be relieved of all of the pain. But if that was the case, why was his arm throbbing, and why did she look so frightened and sick?

She knelt down in front of him, and Ron could make out her watery gaze through the blurring halo of his vision. He leaned forward; it was all he could do with his limited motion. She let out another sob and reached out to him, cupping his face. Her hands felt so warm, so soft, and so real that Ron could feel his own tears beginning to form.

"Hermione?" Ron could only speak her name before he became weak again.

He slumped against her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She lifted his arm gingerly between them, keeping it held up between their bodies. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Ron breathed in deeply, the scent of her hair bringing everything into a stark reality.

"I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry I didn't find you sooner. I'm sorry I let you leave without apologizing… without compromising. I promise you all of me if you just hang on!" She continued to sob, speaking desperately into his ear. "You're so cold. Just stay warm enough." She held him more tightly in her grip, clenching her arms and legs.

He wanted to hold her back. He wanted to tell her that she never had to do anything, he'd love her always. He wanted to whisper in her ear that it was okay. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for flying away that night. But Ron couldn't move, and he couldn't get his voice above a whisper.

The walls of the shack crashed around him, and Ron felt sick and faint from the sudden gust of bitter cold. Over Hermione's shoulder he saw his mother fire a spell at a tall figure in a hood. Another hooded person came bounding over a distant hill, and Harry and Ginny cast a stunner at the same time. In a matter of minutes, his captors were felled. Ron was free.

"Arthur! We have to get him to the hospital… his… he's hurt… and he's so cold. I don't know if he'll… " Hermione was stuttering maddeningly among the commotion. Ron couldn't hear or see his father, but he was more comforted knowing he was there.

He watched as the Aurors came and took the bodies. He couldn't move, and his sight was still blurred, but he understood enough to know that his whole family was standing near him. The whole world seemed to hold their breath as Ron's vision faded to black and his head hit Hermione's shoulder.  
  
  
 _I still believe in summer days._  
The seasons always change  
and life will find a way.

Hermione had to go home. She wanted to wait beside Ron's bed for a prognosis from the healers, but she was filthy, and weak, and she could barely keep her head up. She needed a clean pair of clothing and a shower. Cleaning charms could only do so much.

She apparated to her parent's front porch, hoping that it was late enough at night that they were sleeping. She understood that her mother was trying, but Hermione couldn't handle any questions at the moment. She just wanted to get back to Ron's side and wait with bated breath until the healers gave him a clear prognosis.

Hermione sighed when she saw her father sitting on the sofa, reading a worn looking novel with his glasses resting on the end of his aristocratic nose. He heard her click the door closed quietly and turned his head to smile warmly at her. Honestly, it appeared as though she were just coming home from running errands instead of walking through hell and back. She knew her appearance gave her away, but her father regarded her as though it were just another day.

"Hello love! Are you in for the night?" He asked her, gesturing for her to sit.

She stood frozen for a moment, her mouth hanging open, before she finally came to her senses. "No, I'm here for a shower and for a fresh set of clothing, and then I'm back to the hospital."

"Oh yes, your mother told me your friend Ronald had a bad run in with some dark elements," her father said, the sympathy on his face seemed almost sanctimonious when matched with his tone.

"Well isn't that the understatement of the decade!" Hermione responded, exasperated.

"Hermione, sarcasm doesn't suit you," Her father sighed.

"Oh I'm sorry! The man I love is facing death, and I just channeled some complicated and old magic to get him back, and all you can do is tell me not to be sarcastic! I think I can shower at The Burrow and borrow some of Ginny's clothes." Hermione yelled, storming out of her door.

"Wait!"

Hermione froze, breathing a small sigh of relief that her father was finally beginning to comprehend her world and what it meant to her.

"I'm your father, Hermione, and I can't allow you to repeatedly go into dangerous situations, with risky and undereducated people, when you have so much potential yourself," Mr. Granger said, pausing at the door and looking at her with his deceptively soft brown eyes.

She had been slowly breaking to pieces since that night Ron left, but something in her father's condescending tone had put her completely back together again, and given her the faith in herself and the faith in her world in a way that few things had and that nothing was able to in the frigid winter air. She was face to face with her father in the blink of an eye.

"Do you want to hear about potential, Dr. Granger? I have transported clothing, supplies and books in a bag no larger than my fist. I have fought an anthropomorphic snake that had just risen out of the body of a decrepit old woman and was trying to kill me. I've destroyed a part of a man's soul with the fang of an ancient and terrible creature… and that was just this year," Hermione's voice didn't falter, but remained cool and calm.

"And don't you feel that if you-"

"I cast a charm so powerful that a man and woman forgot that had a child and suddenly moved to Australia."

"Yes, about that, what you did-"

"Is something I would do again. It was painful, and it was horrifying, but it was necessary. I love you and Mom, and I will do anything to protect you, even if it means alienating you."

Mr. Granger's eyes widened. "Darling, you didn't alienate me."

"So don't you talk to me about potential," Hermione finished a little quieter and a little meeker than she intended. Did her father really mean what he said? Had they forgiven her? She didn't want to wait around to find out, anxious to get back to Ron and to prove to her parents that she belonged in magic.

Hermione turned her back and walked slowly down the smooth sidewalk, apparating as she went.

  
_Ill be your harvester of light_  
and send it out tonight  
so we can start again.

When the healers had said Ron was going to make it, the initial relief Hermione felt was so incredible that she nearly fainted in the waiting room. They said Ron would need to sleep while the potions healed him and his injuries were repaired, so he was quickly moved back to the warmth and comfort of The Burrow. Hermione started sleeping on her old cot in Ginny's room, doing nothing but sitting by Ron's bed and waiting for his eyes to crack open. She wasn't going to breathe again until she saw his blue eyes looking into hers.

She didn't want to think about what happened before he was kidnapped. She dreaded the notion that Ron may still want to be away from her when he woke up and came back to his senses. Hermione knew that she shouldn't have let her parents interfere with her goals that way, but after the past few days, she was going to do whatever it took to make herself happy and to live her life with Ron. The question ate at the back of her mind, however: Was it too late?

She spent three days sitting by Ron's bedside, only sleeping when she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. When Percy came up to sit with Ron for a little while, he handed her a study guide for entrance into the Magical Law department. He was taken back when she started weeping.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Hermione. I only thought that you'd like something to read, and I know you've mentioned an interest in Magical Law," Percy said, reaching out for the booklet. 

"No, no, I'm happy to have it! It's just… well, I put this off for far too long. It was a hot point for Ron and I. I kept bending to my parent's wishes instead of going forward with what I wanted in life. He left me, that night. That's why he was at the pub," Hermione confessed, tears streaming down her face. "It's my fault he was there!"

Percy stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before sitting on the bed next to her putting a hand on Ron's shoulder. "If anyone knows something about mixed up priorities, it's me. You can always come back, Hermione. He loves you too much for that to be a permanent rift." He set the booklet back on her lap, shot one more caring glance at Ron, and walked out of the room. 

"Please let it be enough," Hermione whispered, laying her head on Ron's chest. 

She must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes, Molly was standing over her with a warm smile. "Why don't you go on down to bed, dear. We've got alerts. We'll know when he wakes up."

She could feel his lips moving down her jaw line first, and then his hands gripping her waist firmly. It was so real that she had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud when his fringe tickled her nose. He lifted her nightgown, and gooseflesh rose all over her skin when his lips touched around her navel and the cool breeze drifted over her bare skin. 

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly fully awake and sitting up abruptly. Ron caught her shoulders and kissed her firmly on the mouth, his hands holding her so tightly, she thought she might bruise. "You're… "

"Shhhh," He said, closing his eyes and kissing her again, more gently, with his tongue brushing along her lips.

"Oh Ron! I'm so sor… "

Ron gripped her face and placed his thumbs over her lips. When her shoulders finally relaxed slightly, he pulled his thumbs away and she turned her face to kiss his palms reverently. She tried to keep her tears as bay, but the inevitably fell, only to be cleared away by soft kisses down both sides of her face. He leaned his head on her shoulder for a brief moment, sliding the straps of her top down to move his lips along her bare shoulders. 

He leaned back and pulled her gown over her head. The color still hadn't fully returned to his skin, and he looked starkly pale in the moonlight filtering through Ginny's pink curtains. She reached up to touch his bare chest lightly, and he held her hand to his heart for a few moments. She sighed and he pulled her tightly against him. The warmth of his skin against hers was overwhelming. She wanted to cry out his name, to beg his forgiveness, but she knew that he wanted her this way. There would be time for apologies later.

She rose up on her knees and pulled him to her chest. He breathed in deeply before taking one of her exposed nipples into his mouth. She cried out, threading her fingers in his hair. He groaned in the back of his throat and pressed her back against the cot. She landed softly against the pillow, and looked up hopefully at him.

He slid his pants down his legs, and then took her panties down as well. He stopped to kiss her thighs on his way back up to her lips. He had such a raw, determined, and slightly dark gaze in his eyes that she felt a shock run through her body. She opened her legs willingly and let him settle himself between them. 

She heard a choked sob escape Ron as he buried himself in her hair for a moment. However, when he brought his face back up, only the intense dark blue stare remained. He reached down with his hand and slid his fingers between her folds. She was so wet that the both groaned at the contact.

Ron pulled his fingers away from her too soon, and when he hands came to rest on either side of her, she gripped his shoulders and tried to meet his eyes with a steely look. He froze, never losing contact with her stare, and appeared to will something directly into her soul. She could feel it, in every inch of her, and she wanted to sob openly in his arms.

He entered her slowly, moaning quietly the entire time. Hermione thrust her hips up to meet him, losing her breath at the feeling of fullness as he fully sheathed himself inside of her. Ron was frozen above her, and she kept moving her hips, hoping he would move.

When Hermione looked back up at him, he was crying as well. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up slightly to meet his lips. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him, beginning to thrust frantically. She clung to him, despite the strain on her muscles, and hoped that he could feel what she was feeling. She willed him to feel all of her love, her need, and her passion for him. She burned for Ron, and she needed him to know it.

As her body clenched and relaxed in pleasure she could feel Ron quiver and spill inside of her. They fell back to the bed, and Hermione cried in his arms as he whispered her name over and over again. His body shook even while she took gasping breaths to calm herself.

"I thought you'd never come back," Hermione choked out.

"I was ready to die, Hermione. I wanted to die. I was going to let it all go without seeing you again, without feeling you!" He said, his face pressed against her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"No! No, Ron! I'm sorry. I promise I'll never let someone else dictate my life like that," Hermione said, attempting to hold him even more tightly.

"It doesn't matter, Hermione. None of it matters. I shouldn't have left. I almost lost everything," Ron pulled back and looked at her with burning eyes.

"Never again, Ron. It's you and me… it's always been you and me," Hermione whispered fervently. 

"You'll always be enough, love. You'll always be enough."

_Epilogue_

Mrs. Granger may have made the best pot roast that Ron had ever tasted, but there was no way he was ever going to say that out loud. As he finished off a dessert of custard pudding and fruit, he leaned back in his chair and grinned at Hermione's parents. He had to resist the urge to undo the top button of his trousers.

"Mrs. Granger, thank you for that lovely meal. That was incredible!" Ron said, standing up to help clear the dishes.

"Thank you, Ronald. Actually, Paul made the custard. He's got a flair for sweets," Mrs. Granger said coyly. 

"Remind me to have him around when me and Hermione move in to our flat next week!" Ron joked.

"Ron? Can you sit down for a moment?" Hermione asked, taking his hand and guiding him back to his chair. He was worried at the nervous look on her face.

"Well, um, everyone… I didn't just plan a dinner for us to enjoy each other's company, though I'm happy we are!" Hermione smiled nervously. Ron patted the small of her back, hoping that he could sooth whatever was troubling her. "I got an owl earlier today."

"Oh dear! Your test results! Are you in?" Mr. Granger said, pushing his glasses up his nose. Ron looked up at Hermione, anticipating her answer, but already knowing it. He was a firm believer that Hermione could do anything.

Hermione looked around the table for a moment more, and then nodded her head frantically. Ron leapt up to sweep her up in his arms, spinning her around and almost taking out the china cabinet. Mr. and Mrs. Granger rushed over to embrace their daughter, and Ron stepped back. He started to clear away the dishes, giving them time to gush over their only child.

Ron went into the kitchen and placed the cleaned plates into the sink. He wrapped his arms around himself, thinking of all they had been through in the last few months with shivers of recollection. Everything was finally falling into place, and despite Ron's frequent nightmares of cold and death, they were well on their way to the future they had always dreamed of.

Instead of dwelling on the fear that still threatened to devour him in his darker moments, Ron let his stomach flutter with pride. He peeked back into the dining room to see Hermione animatedly telling her parents about her new job at the Department of Magical Law and decided that he was still hungry. He helped himself to another bowl of custard. 

He'd be sure to congratulate Hermione in his own special way later on.


End file.
